


Solace

by glxybbs



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, My First Work in This Fandom, church, sort of religious undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glxybbs/pseuds/glxybbs
Summary: Trevor collins was never a religious man. Despite that fact, he found himself driving to a local church after the sixth job that week went wrong.





	Solace

Trevor Collins wasn’t a religious man. Despite that fact, he found himself driving to a local church after the sixth job that month went wrong.

It was an old place. Wooden beams ran across the roof, the walls and floor were made out of stone and it was lacking the bullet holes that every other building in Los Santos seemed to have hidden somewhere or other. A grand, wooden cross rested against the far wall, beneath it was an altar with a red cloth draped over it and a bible opened directly in the middle. The windows all showed scenes from the book, everything from the Virgin Mary to Noah and the Ark in a colourful display that bled a rainbow onto the stone floor. A thin, red carpet ran between two rows of dark brown pews, decorated with golden threading and a few details that ran up the middle of it. Flowers sat on the ends of the pews, whites and reds and a few yellows mixed together in almost identical bouquets that fitted the aesthetic of the place perfectly, in Trevor’s uneducated opinion.

It was a place that seemed untouched by the cruelness of the life that he lead, somewhere that was an unspoken safe haven from the reality of the world they lived in. Maybe that was why he found as much solace in the place as he did.

He was sat somewhere close to the front, but not too far from the middle either. His head was down, hands clasped together just above him with a faint dash of silver hanging from between his fingers. His suit was still bloody and dirty from having to run and save Gavin from being killed, just moments after slipping up with something so subtle that nobody but some grunt in the back managed to pick up on. Trevor, being Trevor, had taken the brute of their attack and had come out the worst of the small side team of talkers that Geoff had sent in first to get the deal over and done with – it was his own fault for failing to see the knife before it was embedded in his arm, really.

Trevor leaned back into his seat in the pew and let his gloved hands fall to his lap. He started to reel in the pain that coated him, the probably broken nose, the poorly wrapped up stab wound on his left arm, the broken knuckles that sat beneath chafing leather gloves that were coated in blood and dirt and gunpowder from his, now lost, gun. Jack would have his head when he came home without being cleaned up from the scuffle – the thought made him laugh and, in turn, caused his ribs to ache.

The cross in his hands was a dead weight by this point. It added to the guilt that he felt for the job going wrong, added to the anger he felt for being unable to control the crew that he had been in charge of for well over a year, added to the mess of leftover anxiety and adrenaline that was dying out in his veins from the getaway. He twisted the chain around his fingers and let the cross rest in the other hand that he held an inch or so above the other. It managed to somehow feel heavier than it had been before. A thin frown settled on his lips as he let the cross fall.

Trevor tapped his feet against the floor, wiped the blood from his nose with the exposed skin of his wrist and bit his bottom lip as he looked around for the tenth time in the space of five minutes. He drew a loud breath, one that echoed all around and gave an almost haunting vibe to the place that he sat so comfortably. It seemed to scream back at him. He didn’t feel as settled after that.

He knew people would be looking for him, his phone (tactically left in the back of his car, in a backpack and closed beneath the panel in the boot to stop anything from happening to it whilst he wasn’t watching) would be lit up with calls and messages from Gavin and Geoff alike, both curious as to where he’d disappeared too this time. His newly inherited crew was waiting for his instructions, only because Geoff had decided to promote him to the top in such a vital time, and Trevor... Trevor was sat in a church with blood pressed to his face and sorrow for his own actions flooding into his mind like he’d just drove an axe into a river dam with no care for the effect that it would have.

The doors of the church creaked open; Trevor turned to face the sudden source of light that spilled across the floor. He wondered if the cops caught up with him, then if it was the rival crew looking to make the Fake AH pay for what had happened (even though it was their fault). He watched a shadow get shorter, then let his eyes rise up from the floor to meet the eyes of Alfredo, staring at the place like it was his first time in a church.

The latter looked around the pews for a few moments before he locked onto Trevor and started to speed-walk down the aisle to greet him. Trevor counted the steps – thirty-two, he ended up with. Alfredo sat beside him, then stared at the alter with his head tilted at a slight angle, then his focus rose up to the cross that sat above it and he looked at it like it was platinum gold as opposed to wood. Trevor watched him as he took it in, he started to wonder if Alfredo had ever been to a church before, then decided it was a stupid thought to have.

“I thought you’d be with the others, Fredo.” Trevor started, clasping his hands once again and focusing on the stained glass that let the light in to create a patchworked rainbow over the floor.

“Nah,” Alfredo scrunched his nose, equally as bloody and bruised as Trevor’s for a multitude of reasons. His jacket was torn and scuffed from a tussle with another sniper, trousers stained brown and red from blood and dirt – his hair was still near-perfectly styled, despite all of that. He looked the same way that Trevor did when he first stepped into the church; a mixture of bewilderment at the immaculate state of the interior and wonder at the fact that it hadn’t been torn apart by anyone else. It was no wonder that the rest of the crew called them twins, Trevor decided. “Michael and Gav decided that fighting in the armoury would be funny, I walked as soon as the first punch hit ‘cause I ain’t lookin’ to shoot either of the fuckers today.” 

Trevor nodded and let out a quiet laugh. “That’s a smart move, Fredo.”

“That’s ‘cause I am smart, Trevor.” Alfredo laughed slightly louder and leaned back into the pew. He shuffled around until he ended up with his feet on the back of the pew before them and his head hanging over the back of the one that they were sat on, pillow tossed to the floor in his scuffle to find a comfortable position to sit in.

Minutes of loud silence passed between them, not uncomfortable, but strange considering that the two never seemed to shut up when they were together around other people. Trevor fiddled with his cross, wrapping the chain around his fingers again and flipping the cross from hand to hand as though doing so would tell him what to do. Alfredo looked around the place and seemed to find something new to stare at in each crook and cranny that the place presented – he seemed particularly intrigued by the bucket, collecting water that dripped from the ceiling, that sat in the corner of hall. Rain pattered against the ceiling, a set of squad cars zipped by, shadows of plants danced before the stained glass. A normal Los Santos day.

Trevor turned in his seat with a small frown, gloved hands resting over his lap with the silver cross peeking through the shining leather just so much so that Alfredo could see it. “I thought I’d get some solace from this.” The words were thoughtless, untested and added to the list of things to worry about through Trevor’s head – as though that list hadn’t already wrapped around the planet three times over.

“From what?” Alfredo snapped himself away from the flowers at the end of the pews and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Being in here.” Trevor gestured to the church around them with his free hand and let his shoulders drop down at his sides. “My mom... She always used to go to church to repent, or something like that, and I’m tryna do it, just to see what it’s like...” He took a breath, “But, like... How _hell_ do I repent all of my sins without just saying ‘hey Satan, get ready for a fight ‘cause I’m-a coming to steal your throne’?”

Alfredo let out a drawn sigh and nodded slowly, his gaze remained locked on his knees whilst he thought of what to say. He started to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket, the sound adding a somewhat human element to the place. Before he spoke, Alfredo rolled his eyes. “You aren’t _that_ bad, Trev.”

“I feel it.” Trevor slumped into the pew and stared up at the wooden beams above him. He wondered how long he would have to sit there before one fell on top of him. “Gavin and Ryan almost got shot ‘cause _I_ was too slow to tell them to move. You almost got stabbed last week because _I_ froze up. Fiona almost got blown up because _I_ was too busy to tell her to move until Michael was tackling her away from the stupid fucking blast and everyone was screaming at me for not telling her an-”

Trevor stopped and took a breath that made it sound like he’d just ran a marathon rather than spoke a sentence faster than he thought possible.

“None of that was your fault, man. Get that _shit_ outta here before I even start.” Alfredo reached out and placed his hand over Trevor’s shoulder, a somewhat comforting gesture in the moment. His grip was vice-like, which Trevor was used to by this point. “I almost got shot because I forgot to check my six – it happens sometimes, it’s not a big deal. Gavin didn’t get stabbed and if he did, we would’ve dealt with it like we always do. Fiona almost getting blown up isn’t the same as Fiona actually getting blow up, she’s still as alive as she was before the explosion went off and Michael is... He’s Michael. You did what you had to do in the moment and that’s more than enough, Trev.”

Trevor nodded but he didn’t offer any form of reply aside from a quiet and seemingly thoughtless hum.

In his head, Trevor knew Alfredo was right – none of the things that happened to the crew were his fault. Geoff had called them _coincidences_ for a reason. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that one more minute would have left a broken crew in his hands and well over twenty people looking for his blood and his blood alone. He couldn’t shake the feeling of having to go back on the run, of having to live out of dumpsters and sleep in alleyways littered with used needles and stains that he didn’t want to identify right beside him, just so he wouldn’t be killed for killing people who had been in line to the throne of Los Santos long before he was even considered for the job. He started to wonder if Alfredo would take the plunge with him, then reprimanded himself for being so damned selfish in his thoughtless state.

Alfredo continued, “I know that you’re the boss now, but you can’t blame yourself for every stupid mishap, man. That’s how people end up dead. I’ve seen too many people die for getting caught up in the ethics and the morals of what we do and, Trevor, I don’t need you on that list, dude. Seriously. You die, I die.”

“You just made a suicide pact with me, Fredo. Well done. ” Trevor groaned and let his head fall even further back, so he was fully staring up at the roof as opposed to his knees as he had before. “I just... I don’t even know how to describe what the fuck I’m feeling at this point, but I don’t like it. I hate it, even. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t feel like this, man. I’m the boss, I can’t feel like _this_... Can I?”

Rather than saying something like: ‘it be like that sometimes’, Alfredo seemed to pause to think for a few moments. His lips twisted, eyebrows furrowed again and his hand dropped from Trevor’s shoulder to allow him to twiddle his thumbs.

“You have to feel things.” Alfredo decided, nodding his head in tandem with his words. “You have to feel shit ‘cause that’s the thing that makes you alive, Trev. Not feeling things leads you to be like Ryan and we all know how he gets.” Trevor let out a laugh breathy at that, “Ask Gavver about it when you get the chance, he gets it all the fucking time – just doesn’t show it to y’all ‘cause he has an image to keep, or some shit like that.”

Trevor’s lips still twisted into a faint frown. “He does?”

“Yeah. He can help with the whole ‘feeling’ thing better than I can.” Alfredo hummed quietly and started to stand, legs clicking one right after the other as he did so. Despite that, he still managed a genuine seeming smile. “You wanna come get Taco Bell? I’m fuckin’ hungry and Taco Bell always makes me feel better.”

“You go ahead, Fredo – I’ll be out in a minute.”

“A’ight.” Alfredo paused in his steps up the carpeted up the aisle, his shoulders dropped down. He turned on his heel to face Trevor gain, a smile on his face as he spoke. “You can always talk to me, dude. I probably won’t get it, but I’m not gonna, like, judge you or whatever.”

“That, uh, means a lot, Fredo. The same goes for you.” Trevor glanced down to the cross in his hands, then to Alfredo. “I’ll meet you in the car. Put some good music on for me, yeah?”

“It’s my car, so it’s my music. Fuck you.” Alfredo stuck his tongue out, shoved his hands into his pockets and flashed a quick grin before he started to make his way to the door he walked in through.  

As soon as Alfredo left the building, Trevor muttered a quiet prayer that asked for some kind of guidance from anyone who would listen. A minute passed ad he said Amen, let his shoulders fall again and stood. He brushed himself down, adjusted the buttons on his waistcoat and nodded as though he’d just figured out world peace on his own, as opposed to his own personal issues with the help of someone who he considered to be his best friend.

With one last look around, stepped out from the pew and let his steps echo around the hall as he hastily followed Alfredo out. He never had been a religious man.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! This is my first time publishing one of my FAHC fics and I really hope it was okay?  
> Comments and Kudos are appriciated!! Thank you for reading!! :D


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